At the End of the Day
by HellieLovett
Summary: The demon barber is teaching the demon baker how to shave- and both, in a way, are getting exactly what they want. Toby wants to make things come full circle before it's too late. Eventual Sweenett.
1. In Which Mrs Lovett is Bored

**Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, puh-leeease!  
****This is the first fanfiction I've written, and I bet there are going to be countless flaws. I apologise in advance for you dear readers that might spot them. Another writing flaw of mine happens to be that my beginnings can be slow. So hang in there!**

The usual morning sounds of rain stirring the smoggy air and pattering against the cobbled streets were the sounds that Mrs Lovett awoke to everyday.

Every day in which she continued a routine- the same routine. Over, and frankly, over again.

Sighing heavily, she dragged herself out of bed as if being slowly pulled by some invisible force. Which was true, in a way. Everyday, Nellie Lovett was pulled out of bed by the thought of being noticed by a certain someone. Of course, she had heard the story enough times to give it a million, ever-varying renditions, but still, she believed, there was a way that she could change her ending.

"Mr. T!

...Mr. Todd, I-"

"What?"

The door swung open with the force and rage of a demon.

If you weren't Mrs Lovett, you might be convinced that you were seeing exactly that. In front of her stood a tall, silhouetted figure, who seemed to blend with the shadows as if he evolved from them. His wild, untouched hair conflicted viciously with the smooth, sultry darkness behind him. The eye of the storm was his very face- a mask composed from years of torture and surprisingly, even worse- hope. Wild, insane hopes, that one day, he would once again enter the seemingly glowing presence of his fallen wife, Lucy. Crazy, impossible dreams that would end with him, for one last time, gently caressing the face of his daughter Johanna. After the hope, came the rage. The rage that turned the last bit of human in those once deep brown eyes black and empty.

But Mrs Lovett knew better. The only thing she saw was a beautiful, lost, and maybe slightly twisted soul, who needed a bit of help in the right direction. She was also convinced that SHE would be the one to show him this way, and bring back the man who once was. Then, maybe, he could return what only she was then willing to give- love.

She offered up a metal, rusted tray carrying a quantity of food, not noticing the dooming item placed underneath the bowl of porridge.

"I just brought you your breakfast, love. Ya can't just sit up here and waste away, dreamin' of her... I know you'd love to, but not today. I won't let you. So eat up."

She checked his eyes quickly for the sign of danger she knew well, and saw just the nothingness she was used to most of the time. It was safe. She walked in slowly, softly pushing his idol body aside, and placed the tray on a large trunk kept in the damask room.

How she dreamed for the look he once gave Lucy to be placed upon her, to fill those eyes once again...

"Well? Here ya go." She held out the tray, and felt disappointment sink in as he snatched the tray, snapping out of his stature. The typical morning routine. Which then involved a dejected Mrs Lovett heading out the door, and back downstairs to get ready for the next day of business.

Sweeney Todd was sick.

He was sick of that irritating little chime the door made when it opened and the Judge didn't walk in. He was sick of seeing not the Judge, but Mrs Lovett walk through the door. He was very sick of seeing that stupid, joyful look she had, as if some how her glee would seep out of her ears, on to the floor, and eat through his shoes (for he had no doubt happiness was acidic) and infect him as well. He didn't care what he ate, where he slept, who he killed (exception for the Judge) or how he lived. No, correction- Sweeney Todd was not living. He was merely being dragged on a leash through every day, forced to react, to "live".

He wanted out of the deal. All he wanted was to kill the judge, and leave. He didn't care about Mrs Lovett and her practical ideas, since he was thinking of escaping her suffocating hold. Once he was free of the stinking binds of London, Lucy would show him where to go... Lucy. The only thing attaching to that dreaded leash, dragging him through an empty existence. Yes, once he left, everything would be less real. He and Lucy would be as close as they would ever get for now, be that miles and miles, or practically another lifetime away.

Once he was rid of London... But the real problem was ridding that constant punishment of his... This proved very difficult- much more difficult than he had thought.

"TOBY! I need ya on the tables, dear!"

The expected answer was shouted followed by footsteps of a young boy.

"Yes, ma'am!"

She smiled. _Now, if only someone else were as willing..._

Toby was a very obedient child. He wanted nothing more than to make his adoptive mother as happy as possible. And since Toby was facing a big problem, he was going to have to do something he thought necessary for Mrs Lovett's happiness. He was going to do something about her and Mr T before... Before it happened. He checked a time-keeping system he had made up on a ripped up piece of paper kept in his pocket. He felt many emotions arise looking at the paper- sadness, fear, and worry. Especially worry. Toby had a job to do. And even as young as he was, he knew it was going to be difficult.

Mrs Lovett was just about to flip the "Open for Business" sign when Toby quietly tapped her on the back. She gave a small jump, and whipped around. "Toby! Don't ya go sneakin' up on one like tha! Gave me a fright!"

"Sorry, ma'am. All... All I wanted was to ask you a li'l question."

"Anything, love", Mrs Lovett spoke quietly, the softness of her words hiding a bubbling curiosity waiting inside. Toby wasn't one to go outside of his orders, unless it was in showing affection for Mrs Lovett. Why would he do this now?

"I've been thinkin... Has.. Has Mr T been any different lately?"

"Whadd'ya mean?"

"Well... Towards you. You've been doin' all these things for 'im, ma'am, and I just don't think 'e's been a right bit proper with-"

"Toby! You know what poor Mr T's been through! Imagine, all 'em years, locked up in a cell, sweatin to the high 'eavens! What if I treated you like that? As a prisoner? And ya know what me and Mr T is- barber and baker, is all. " Once again, with the angriest voice she could muster, Mrs Lovett was masking what she was truly feeling- agreement.

_Why does that crazy old fool have the right to treat me like dirt while he just wastes away up there, thinking about someone that won't come back? While I am absolutely everything he could want and more- he ignores me. _

"I see the way you look at him, ma'am." The child's innocence showed that he didn't understand how these words tore through Mrs Lovett.

"Uh- Toby, love, listen- I know you an' Mr T ain't on the best pretenses here, but we gotta learn to forget. Mr T will come around. Just wait." She then patted his head reassuringly and sent him off to the tables again.

Like predicted, the day was busy as it ever was, with no sign of Sweeney Todd except for the fact that there was food in the resteraunt. When Mrs Lovett had first come up with the notion of baking his dead customers into her pies, Sweeney had agreed, seeming more lively than he had ever been. _Maybe I'll have a chance, this time... Maybe this is the start of it all... The start of us.._ In the early days, Mrs Lovett couldn't stop these dreamy, immature thoughts from swirling around her head like a thick cloud. But soon, the cruel bright sun broke through these thoughts so her head was completely clear. And a new thought, though not as lovely, set in- reality. All he would ever do was kill, sulk, eat, sleep, and repeat. Somehow, Mrs Lovett was determined to find a spot in this routine, no matter how small. This proved very difficult- more difficult than she thought.

As the baker waved goodbye to the last customer, she turned around, relieved that she wouldn't have to stretch her weary face into a smile anymore. Sighing, she flipped the open sign, nodded a quick goodnight to Toby, who was cleaning the last dishes, and heaved herself off to her room.

As Nellie laid her head down on the pillow, any thoughts of sleep darted away quickly like minnows in a pond. All fatigue was gone, and a new thought had plagued her now- Mr Todd.

Mrs Lovett had found herself supporting what Toby said the more she thought about it. Sweeney couldn't thrive without her doings, and it wasn't a bit fair that he wouldn't even make the slightest effort to show he cared.

_Because he probably doesn't, _Mrs lovett thought, annoyed. Then another new thought wormed its way through her head.

_That's it. Tomorrow morning when it's breakfast, I'm not bringing it._

She decided she would go up there, and speak to the barber... She wanted him to know that she thought she deserved a little more respect. She was tired of waiting. Tired of waiting for the subtle sign of "thanks". So very tired of waiting for a notion that he noticed her existence. And very, VERY tired of waiting for something she knew would not come quickly nor easily.

_Well, it's time for a change... Tomorrow morning_, she promised herself, and with that thought mentally taken care of, Nellie Lovett could sleep easy.

The next morning, however, was the exact opposite.

An ungodly, thunking noise was what easily punctured Sweeney Todd's rare moments of sleep.

He dug his nails into the thin mattress, and biting his lip he mustered a weakly-forged "Go away."

"Hmmm... Can't do that, dear. Gonna need ya to open up."

He felt frustration erupt and surge through every inch of his veins. Not to mention, he was still mad from yesterday. The breakfast brought to him by his landlady had a concerning note-

"She liked gillyflowers- maybe some to lighten the mood?"

With that, a single gillyflower.

How did she know about what Lucy liked? And since when was her handwriting so.. So illegible? It made him very puzzled indeed.

He blinked hard, trying to distribute the anger into all parts of his body. Bending his wrists, squaring his shoulders, tightening the already-tense muscles in his neck. "No."

He heard an obviously staged sigh from the other side of the door, and instantly hated himself for letting her predict how he was going to act. "Fine, then..." From the other side of the door, Mrs Lovett took out a rattling set of skeleton keys, and fitted one into the keyhole. "I'm not daft Mr T. I'm still the landlady. I still 'ave me the keys." She suddenly regretted this all in the first place, feeling both quite scared and sorry. "I- I'm going to open the door now".

A particularly moody growl from the other side of the door.

"Yes, I know.." Wanting to go below the anger radar, Mrs Lovett tried to play along. She turned the key, and thrust the door open. "I need to talk ta you. And for once, you're going to listen." Mrs Lovett realized she had never been this firm with him before. She mentally regretted it, for she now had no experience to know what signs to look for in those ever-changing eyes.

Sweeney Todd was no more than a grump in a lump, all caught up in sheets, showing signs of a horrible sleep the night before. And the night before that, and the night before that...

"If it's food, leave it on the trunk, and escort yourself out. And... And I don't understand the flower. What you were trying to do." Sweeney said these words quickly, for he didn't want to spend the time it would take for a conversation. He knew there were trigger words that could set Mrs Lovett off for hours.

"Flowers? I'm afraid I don't 'ave the foggiest what you're going on about."

Sweeney rolled his eyes. Why must she make it so hard?

"And...It's not breakfast. And I'm not making it. D-... Do it yourself, if you really want it." She sniffed, looking unusually indifferent. Sweeney didn't like that.

Anger fueling him into stringing words together, he sat up and spat, "Then why did you come?".

"I'm tired of this all, Mr Todd, to be perfectly honest. I-" she paused, wondering if she should continue, and then Toby's previous words filled her head- "I've been doing all these things for you, and in return, I haven't seen the least bit of gratitude in my direction. No tiny words of thanks, or any notion that alerts me that you know I exist! Well I do, Mr Todd, and in fact, if I weren't here, I bet you wouldn't be either." She stopped short, surprised that she had gotten this out with no razor or cold hand pressed to her throat. He sat seemingly unimpressed, a stony expression spreading over his face. She continued, not holding her tongue at all this time, recklessness letting her sentences loose. "Not any ounce of respect, not any show of affection, or lo-"

His eyes lit up, and the stony expression was gone, switched for rage instead. Mrs Lovett gasped, instantly covering her mouth, inwardly cursing herself... She had gone much too far... "Oh, Mr T, I didn't-"

He slowly raised from the bed, and walked towards her in a decidedly not-friendly manner, razor flicking at his side. Did he sleep with it?

"You are not Lucy. Nor will you ever be her. You don't deserve to ask those things of me, no, because you already know I only live for one person." Mrs Lovett registered the calm before the storm, deciding it was a great time to leave. "And you- you will never be worthy to take her place!"

Mrs Lovett's last straw snapped, and the part of herself telling her to back down and leave was crushed as the words came tumbling Iike rocks down a mountain.

"I know! Mr T, I know! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I don't have those gorgeous blue eyes, and angelic yellow hair! I'm just- I'm just me! The landlady, the baker, whatever you want! And.. And I'm as good as its gonna get. I can't be your Lucy. But you need to move on- because I'm all you have. You know that." Mrs Lovett felt relieved letting the words fall, but immediately winced, waiting for it to come back and bite her.

Sweeney paused, for once, struggling for a reaction. He settled on a familiar one. Anger.

"Why did you come then? Is this all you woke me for?" He felt angry just saying it, knowing that he could be so vulnerable to one measly, annoying little person.

Mrs Lovett did some quick thinking. She realized in that moment, if she backed down from the barber, everything would slip back into that dreadful routine. Why had she come up here in the first place? To stir a CHANGE. So, with nothing more to say, Mrs Lovett uttered a not-so-thought-through idea.

"... I . I.. I think.. I wanna help you. Up here, I mean."

Sweeney made an odd expression- apprehension? As if he was trying to put on anger, dominance, and confusion all at once. He let anger take over again. "What are you talking about?", he muttered stonily.

Mrs Lovett panicked inwardly, trying to string up many excuses at once, and ending up finding nothing but frayed ends at most of them. "Well... Well you need time alone, and maybe it would do me some good, ya know. Learning new things."

The barber had to make an effort for once- there were too many thoughts bouncing around. He selected one of them and let it slide through his mouth with a scowl, and perhaps a small smirk. "Oh, a female barber? Mrs Lovett, I do believe you have lost it. And who exactly will run shop, hmm?" It wasn't that he was agreeing to go on with this conversation- Nellie realized he was mocking her. That upset her quite a bit. She felt frustrated that her words began to come out in a hurry, that her excuses were getting weaker and thinner each time one fell off of her dry lips.

"The boy's got quite a hand on things, he's gettin older, some responsibility would do 'I'm good!"

She was looking for anything now, anything that would make him agree.

"Ha. He can't run all of it. He'd have to find out about the pies." Once again, mock agreement. Mrs Lovett groaned. Desperation was literally showing in her now- in the frayed ends of her weather and age worn dress. in the way she always cocked her head to one side, and placed a gloved hand on her hip. In her searching eyes, those eyes that seemed to find things many people already thought long gone.

She needed to spend more time with Mr Todd. Like a plant thrived in sun, like a fish relished in water.

"Well, I don't have to be up here all the time! Maybe just when you want a break. For one or two shaves, ya know, then I'll go back to baking and you've had your time, and it's all well."

Mrs Lovett noticed with a start that the next comment from her partner in crime was not of mocking tone, but it had dipped to a sudden icy seriousness.

"You know you'd have to do it though."

"Do wha-"

"Kill. And don't even get me started- you'd have to first know how to shave anyways. As if I would ever agree to any of this. No."

Mrs Lovett did hear his comment about the murders, but at that point, she figured she would work out details later.

"Oh, Mr T, but-"

"No. And I'm still wondering how you think the idea of a female barber could work." Fake answers were directed at her once again. Mrs Lovett fought back a bit more, wanting to break through to him that she meant all of this.

"Hey! I.. I.. Well, think about it this way- you're right. Who's ever seen a female barber? That'll intrigue 'em, and bring in more customers..." She flushed a pale pink, and bit her tongue, knowing that sounded much worse out loud.

"Ok, lets say your ridiculous idea does bring in more people- I don't want you messing with my job. It's my punishment, my duty to kill... My... Responsibility." His eyes lit up with a fire.

Mrs Lovett paused.

Was this really the fate of Benjamin Barker? Was this the same charming, sweet man she had known in her youth? What would he have said if he knew what he was to become?

She knew she could never kill. Chop up the bodies, yes, but kill... That would place her directly at the front of the line. To be responsible for a life. But she knew, she knew when it came to the end of the day, if she was swearing revenge for the fall of Mr Todd... She would do it in a heartbeat.

But for now, she was second in line. And she was fine with that one thing staying the same.

"You're-you're right."

But she wasn't going to let the conversation end there. That was submission.

"But... But think about this. If anything ever happens... I don't know... You go over the edge and go down to see old Lucy",-a word she usually used with caution, but now she was getting desperate- "or just leave me... Just... I don't know. Maybe for fun? Mr Todd- I want you to teach me the ways of a barber. A proper barber."

Sweeney bored his eyes into hers. "Me take my time, teaching you useless things?"

She had nothing else. Mrs Lovett was stripped. What was left?

"I suppose..." She blushed. Could he not notice how obviously she was aching for a scrap of time in his presence? Even this was a bit satisfying for her, even if it was a sort of argument.

Sweeney turned to the window, abandoning something of a stare off between him and Nellie.

Why was it, in that twisted and dark labyrinth of a head, that he was considering saying yes?


	2. In Which Sweeney Todd Plays a Game

**I have recieved followers.**

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**Really though, I cannot thank anyone who followed or reviewed or faved enough. Every little bit means so much.**

**Here is Le Second Chapter!**

**WARNING- THERE IS SINGING.**

**Life is for the alive, and personally I'd prefer to keep it that way, so please don't kill me.**

Sweeney was now talking to Mrs Lovett through the window's modest reflection of her.

A ghost.

She had haunted him long enough, that was for sure. And she never went away.  
What was she thinking? Why was she so eager to suddenly do the cursed job itself? Sweeney was stumped. But at the moment, it wasn't her motives he was contemplating, but his own.

That window was solving a lot of solutions.

Pale, see-through. Rather lifeless looki-

_Wait. Wait a minute. _  
Sweeney's revenge driven mind began to translate Mrs Lovett's fantasies into plans to rid her.  
_This... This is the way I can get her into the chair... And then she'll be dead, and I'll throw the rest of the bodies into the oven, kill the kid, throw him in too, then... _

_Then I can finally leave..._

He knew, by teaching her how to shave, the would come a moment where she was completely vulnerable, and this would be the very best way to do it. Her unknowing. He could make it much easier for himself and just ask her to sit in that doomed chair. She would obey without much hesitation. But this was they way he could play with his prey before the kill. Taunting her, teasing her, and then...  
He watched her fiddle with the tearing ruffles on that old dress, so obliviously. Her dedication would be her undoing.

"Fine. Tomorrow. Exactly half an hour after breakfast. If you are late, you will be dead. If you are early, you will be dead. Now leave."

For a moment, Mrs Lovett just stood staring at him. Then a wide grin made its way around her face, sparking her eyes, and awakening laugh lines that had been idol for a long time.

"Oh, Mr. T, thank you! I- "

"Well? I said go!"

Unable to process what had just occurred, she nodded her head quickly, as if stunned, and then hitched her skirts up, and bolted out the door, carrying her ridiculously large smile with her. Sweeney rolled his eyes as he heard childish giggling all the way down the stairs. The amount of moods that had left that room escalated by one, and Sweeney was left to contemplate, once again, why it was happiness.

He wandered over to the small dresser occupying the far wall. He glanced down at his precious artifacts- a picture of Lucy, his razors, other barbering tools, and Johanna's never-used jewelry box. Which had lately been covered in a thick layer of dust. He scolded himself. He needed to keep these clean. These were some of the only left memories he had of his family. He started to turn away when he did a double take-  
something was scrawled in the dust.

A message for him.

-...-

The next morning, Mrs Lovett tore out of her bed at the usual hour. The only thing different was that the usual thing pulling her out of bed- the barber, of course- wasn't just a pull anymore. It was a tug, a call. And Mrs Lovett was more than ready to answer. That morning, she made breakfast with an energy Toby had never seen on her before.

"Ma'am, I never knew you could do that thing where they flip the eggs onto the plate!"  
Mrs Lovett beamed at the child, still driven by that answer given to her by Sweeney the day before.  
"Well, Toby, today is a... A big day. New things are about to happen. I need to be ready." She breathed for a moment, resting the frying pan on the counter for a moment. Her eyes settled on the stale water sitting flat in the washing basin, which was placed clumsily on the edge of the counter, reflecting a wardrobe and more general objects occupying that section of the building.

_Hmm, that wardrobe door needs ta be closed..._

She looked a little closer...

_What the..._

She studied the reflection for a while, checking behind her...

A dress?  
She whipped around, looking past the alcove in the kitchen and into the wardrobe kept usually shut.

She hiked her skirts up, not caring about her greasy hands. The look on her face defined puzzlement perfectly- frowned eyebrows, her mouth gaping, head tilted, as if all the questions inside were weighing it down.

"Toby, did you see this... Oh!"

She couldn't really comprehend what was being placed before her eyes. A blood-red bustle dress, ruffles and completely unessecary bows galore, fluffed up as big as possible, was hung in a closet, full of clothes much humbler in comparison. Of course, they had the money by now to buy clothing like that, but the gesture was still enormous. She couldn't believe that anyone within the building would commit such a gesture.

"Oh, Toby, love! You got this for-"

But she halted her speech immediately when she read the scribbly writing on the tag.  
She searched for air and sucked in a shaky breath.  
"No... It's.. He wouldn't..."  
With that she bounded up the stairs to Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor.

Toby could only smile.

-...-

She didn't even knock. Mrs Lovett burst through the door, halting up as soon as she saw the figure pacing.  
He only paced when he was waiting for something. She gasped.

"Oh- I'm not late, am I?" she bit her lip- that dress was from him, yet it made her late.

"Yes. You are."

Her insides chilled, realizing there was no sort of warmth to his voice. She tried her best to sound "warm"- why did he have to make everything so difficult?- and began to speak. "I saw the dr-"

"What did you write in my room? And when?"

"Write? In your room? Again, I really dunno what you're bumblin' on about. Now, as I was gonna say, why did ya buy tha-"

"Well, why don't you come see then, pet?"

Sweeney growled and spat the last word, and then broke suddenly out of his pacing and led Mrs Lovett, grasping his tough, calloused hands around her thin pale neck, to the dresser. He then jerked her head down. "What is this, my dear?"  
She gasped. Written in the dust...  
_May 26, jamais oublier!_

"That was... The wedding. Of Bejamin Barker. How did you know?"

Words failed her, so she said the first thing that her mouth would accept.

"I don't even know what this is, Mr Todd, I swear! I dunno what or how- I don't know how this got 'ere any a bit more than you! And don't go harpin' off on me when there's a whole bloomin' dress down there!"  
There weren't a lot of words, yet Mrs Lovett was looking for breath by the end. "It's true, I swear!"

His expression twisted, and he seemed to forget the dusty message, as if it had blown away. "A dress? A dress from Toby. I 'aven't bought you any dress." again, the last word was spat like poison.  
Mrs Lovett's heart sank. And then she remembered the tiny bit of weight in her corset. She pulled it out.

"Then how could he have given me this with it? You must have!"

Sweeney felt a jolt run trough his still body. His mouth turned a frown. It wasn't possible- he looked down at his finger- his ring! He snapped his head back up, seeing the ring clutched between the baker's thumb and pointer. He snatched it out of her hand and slipped it back on with a growl.

"Explain. Now."

Mrs Lovett felt angry at him now- why could he so easily blame her?

"Oh, so now I have somethin' ta do wiv it? Well, ta MOST people, Sweeney Todd, when ya get a signed card and a ring from one, it means it's from THEM. I dunno how this happened, so do NOT turn on me!"

He didn't bother with a reply.

_Remember, if you wait, you'll get her slowly and painfully at the end of these lessons_... It was the only thought that kept the barber from silencing her right then and there.

"Well I didn't do it. Now let's just start this... Lesson."

Nellie nodded. But one thought kept circling back-  
The demon barber had bought her a dress.  
And there was no other explanation for it. That's why he seemed so affronted! Obviously his experience and lack of communication with a female being over the past 15 years had worn down. He was going to be uncomfortable at first, of course.  
And Mrs Lovett would wait, the knowledge that the barber had bought her something keeping her going until the next act of acknowledgement.

This thought, of course, easily translated into a smile that she couldn't contain. When he began to sharpen a razor, she decided it was a good time to sit down and listen.

"Alright, Mr T, I'm ready!"

Mrs Lovett sat on the small trunk, it would seem, literally bubbling with happiness.

Sweeney couldn't tell why- she had been yelling at him in defiance not 10 minutes ago. He -of course- was mad, but he bottled it up and reminded himself of his prize.

"Ok. You are here to learn things. You will do what I ask, nothing more, nothing less. If you do something wrong, there will not be another lesson. Understood?"

Like a child eagerly awaiting instructions, she mustered a weakly-forged serious face and nodded.

"Good. Now listen up. I doubt you have any experience, so I'll give you an obvious one- hold the razor in your dominant hand."

Sweeney was finding instructing this woman the greatest difficulty of all, never mind staying sane in her presence. He already noticed her fingers gravitating towards the buckles on the trunk, itching to fidget with something. He growled.

"Stay focused."

Her fingers dropped sullenly, but her face didn't change a bit.  
_Ok, I've got her fingers down, so now how do I get the rest of this woman to listen as well?!_

And with that, he very reluctantly handed her a small, silver razor from a drawer in the corner of the room. The baker began to protest.

"What about your razors? Why can't I-"

"Because those are off limits to anyone but me, and you are not to go near them."

Sweeney felt irritated with himself for the tone of his own voice. He couldn't place his finger on it, but he didn't like the way he addressed her, as if she was under his control. He wanted nothing to do with her except have the satisfaction of ridding her from his presence- for good.

The barber gave a great, dramatic heave of a sigh, and sat slowly, with the utmost reluctance, in the cursed chair itself. Suddenly everything had a new perspective- he, the prey, the landlady, the predator? He hoped bitterly he wouldn't have to get used to it. But he knew he probably would have to- for patience travels closely with revenge.

Nellie Lovett was thrilled. She didn't even care that she was being treated like a small child in a museum- it was worth it. She reached out a slender hand to lather the shaving cream, but was stopped by Sweeney swatting it away like a fly. Trust would have to be built.

The barber felt like a fool, smudging the white solution all over his face. He didn't know why he was letting the baker see him in such a state, but he figured by now, she would believe trust was being built.

The mouse trusted the cat when he said with lifted paws, "Come and play, underneath my waiting claws..."

It was all a game.

So he played right along, from the very beginnin, when the cold metal hit his face.

"Don't you see, you have to glide..."

"What, how do ya do that? I've already tried!"

"You have to lighten your grip!"

"But if I do, it's gonna slip!"

"You're the worst I've ever seen."

"Well at least this shave is clean!"

"That's it! Your awful work has -HEY! Don't cut me!"

"Then, Mr T, do not insult me!"

Mrs Lovett, tired of being criticized, knicked his skin a bit. She finally felt dominant, in control of this madman, and she quite liked the feeling too. It was much more satisfying then babying him, without a given response. Although there was still part of her that wanted this not only to be her effort, but an effort made by two. Then with that, she resumed the attempt to give the demon barber a shave.

"I'm trying my best!"

"Well it seems like your worst."

"Can I take a rest?"

"Finish this first!"

"But LOOK, my hand is-"

They both paused. Sweeney slowly looked at her hand.

"I thought you were right handed."

"I am! See- oh..."

Mrs Lovett realized she was holding the razor... In her left hand.

"Well that explains a lot..."

"You really can't be taught..."

"Oh, don't be so absurd!"

"You don't listen to a single word!"

Sweeney stood up and pushed her off of him, and stormed off by the window.

"I should've kicked her out, when I heard her on the stairs... I should've made her leave, ridded of her then and there... But if I were to do that, I can't get her in the chair.."

Sweeney knew that Mrs Lovett would do anything he asked. He could've made it 100 times easier and just told her to have a seat. But this way, he could take his time... She wouldn't know that sitting in that doomed chair was out of place. It would all be part of the lesson...

"Patience", he muttered to himself, then forced himself to go back and have a seat in the chair.

"Now, let's try this... Again." he said the word with much difficulty. "RIGHT hand".  
"Right hand", she repeated, obviously trying to pick up knowledge or information from the words. She held it in her right hand this time, and sang quietly, "Well, Mr T, now should I go?"

"Yes. Er- please. But this is too slow."

"You old grouch- how would you know?  
I bet you've never even gotten this far."

"As you already know, fool you are,  
I- he once had a life, a love, a..."

"A wife, Mr T. I know, it's a scar..."

"No, you don't know. You can't. Not even by far..."

"She was pale, and petite, with long yellow hair..."

"Sweeney! Admit defeat, because she isn't ever there!"

Mrs Lovett realized with a start that Sweeney was now clean shaven. Careful not to clue him in on this fact, for she didn't want the lesson to end, she began gently wiping the shaving cream off with a towel, jumping when he began singing again-

"But what if she is there, just around the bend-"  
"Just forget about 'er, please, just please, Mr Todd.."  
"Sitting picking daisies, in a warm, glowing glend..."  
"Please, give it up, shes DEAD, you old sod!"

She sighed with frustration, but cut the last bit, realizing this could end their conversation. So she quickly added, "I could be Lucy, if you give me a chance"...  
"Every night, you and me, doing ballroom dance,  
In a new bustle dress-  
After that, we'll play chess,  
And when I win, I'll laugh!  
But then clean up the mess.  
For you,  
Just for you..."  
She stopped, wondering if it was too much. And then silence. Did he realize she was done?  
"Mrs Lovett, I believe,  
You are dreaming yet again.  
I'm a demon  
And you're Decieved  
That more than razors are my friends."  
Mrs Lovett was about to continue when his motor fired up again, starting with a growl.  
Don't speak of my wife,  
don't utter her name  
You are just YOU.  
And she puts you to shame."  
She frowned, getting irritated that this Lucy always had to be in the way.  
"But it's just a name, my love, surely that you can forget! Lucy's happy up above, so really, you don't have to fret!"

"I'm here now instead, so don't you lose your head. Realize she's gone... Realize she's dead..."

Sweeney retreated quickly once he realized where this was going.

And he was determined NOT to go there.  
"No- I- we're done. The lesson, I mean. Done. Out." he snarled, contentment snapping like a twig inside him. No, not even- he could never be content with this constant punishment in his presence.  
She gasped. She realized with a pang that her time with him was up. "No, just let me st-"  
"NO! GET OUT!"  
Mrs Lovett bit her lip, injecting an acidic mixture of anger, frustration, and disappointment.  
She'd come so close...  
She tossed the towel aside and made her way quickly out the door, with not a single glance back.

**Well how was that? Hopefully you could tell who was singing what. Or else I'll die. Ok maybe not. If you would be so kind to tell me what you thought, that would be lovely!**

**PS. No, I don't own Sweeney Todd.**


	3. In Which Toby Tells a Story

**THANK YOU ABSOLUTELY SO MUCH if you followed/reviewed/faved! It means absolutely everything to me! **

**Ok, this chapter is a bit short. I'm sorry if the baker seems a bit over emotional. But things get better, I promise! I have many twists planned for this story! MWAHAHAHA!**

**But really. It gets better. I think. I hope.**

**Anyways, I don't own Sweeney Todd.**

Thunking down the stairs, Mrs Lovett spotted Toby sweeping the floor.

She sniffled a bit, and hid her head so the child couldn't read her, as if her weak and wobbling voice wasn't enough to tell she was on the verge of breaking.

"Ah, Toby, love, that's great! Why"- she took a rattling breath- "W-why don't you come inside now, sit down for a bit?"

He half-smiled. "Sure, ma'am. But are you sure this is good enough?" He eyed tedious specks on the ground that only he could see.

"Oh, it's much more than needed, dear."

"If ya say so, ma'am." Toby set down the broom and followed Mrs Lovett inside. He watched her retreat to her room, and then let the frustration roll over his features. What went wrong this time?

SLAM.

Thump thump thump thump.

GROAN.

The noises made by Mrs Lovett.

Slamming her bedroom door.

4 long steps to reach her bed.

A creak as she rested her equally creaky bones down.

And she cried.

Her body rang with sobs, exploding from her throat, traveling through her, shaking her.

How long until he was a lost cause? Every move she made, extending a hand to him, getting closer, only ended up pushing her further away.

And the weird little things that had been happening! The message in the dust, that dress, the flowers...

Little sounds were pounding at her skull, but she blocked them all out. Nothing mattered at that moment. She wanted a moment of pity- if she wasn't going to gain it from anyone else, she'd cry for herself.

SQUEAK.

She looked up suddenly, a small figure standing in the doorway.

"Ma'am, are you alright? I knocked, but you didn't answer."

Mrs Lovett sat still for a moment. She blinked and two new silvery droplets made their way down her pale face, competing against each other to reach her jaw line first.

"Well, I'm not gonna lie. I'm... I'm not ok this time, Toby." She managed a salty smile. It felt strange on her face, as if wearing clothes too small for herself.

"What did he do?"

She swallowed heavily.

"Nothing. He hasn't done anything... At all. And that... That's the problem".

She didn't know if Toby understood, but at the moment, he was better than any professional therapist could ever be.

"Then why are you so troubled? He's done nothing to ya, for once, and I'm good with that."

She giggled. Toby was so innocent. It made her feel refreshed, like he was counteracting her deeds in the bake house.

"I guess I should be happy with that, at least. I'm not dead."

"Mmm... Ma'am, can I tell you a story?"

Mrs Lovett found herself reeled in by this odd request. "But of course, dear". She propped herself up more, and smiled, welcoming his melodic words.

He began.

"Once, of course, many years ago,

The world was not very well.

People weren't kind,

Words made binds,

And on revenge, people always did dwell."

"Toby... What kind of story is this?"

But he ignored her and continued.

"A little girl about my age,

Well she had a friend who was a Page,

For the castle built over a well."

"Back then, there's no denying,

Times were rather trying,

Especially for women-"

"I know why", breathed Mrs Lovett. If he was speaking of castles, this must be medieval times...

"Anyone caught in suspicious,

Or fishy situations,

Would be pronounced as Witches

And be taken to the hanging station."

"So when the little girl was falsely caught,

Doing magic she was truly not,

The page had to save her from her unjust fate."

"Well- did 'e get to 'er in time? Did 'e save 'er?" Mrs Lovett found herself suddenly attached to 2 people she didn't even know.

Toby didn't falter, continuing the story.

_The page told the girl to hide in the well._

_"I'll come back, I promise! Just stay quiet!"_

_The girl nodded, her dark eyes a pallet of thousands of shades of fear._

_There were spies watching._

_The castle guards found the Page, and having heard his conversation, took him away..._

_The girl was left to drown._

_The Page was very angry and swore revenge on the castle..._

_But after a while he realized this would never make the girl happy wherever she was. What would was him moving on. _

"So he did."

Mrs Lovett blinked for what seemed the first time in hours.

"Wait- no- but how did 'e know what would make 'er happy? She- she's dead! This is all very vague, ya know. Lots o' them grey areas."

Mrs Lovett found her mind mirroring the story to her own situation.

"Because he was happy too. Since... Since she was always going to be a part of him, no matter what, once she was happy... So was he."

The baker winced at the cheesiness. "Aw, well, surely things couldn't turn out that well! If I tried ta get Mr T-"

Mrs Lovett's heart echoed a fast pulse as her mind raced.

"Toby- you're a genius! "

She suddenly sprang off the bed with the past morning's energy, gave Toby a quick peck on the head, and ran up the stairs to-

_Oh no. I can't- I need to get ready for tomorrow! The pies! And I'm out of flour..._

Nellie felt the excitement of her newly forged idea go flushing out of her faster than it came. She thumped back down the stairs and back inside, realizing that she needed to earn herself a living. Whether that included the barber, she didn't know.

"Toby! I'm in need of some flour- you want to come to the market wiv me?"

Mrs Lovett paused at the door, her lacy gloves slipped around the knob. She waited for his answer. Her call was eventually echoed by "Yes please, ma'am", as Toby came walking towards the door.

He stuffed a stained and rumpled paper into his pocket hastily.

"As long as I don't 'ave to be home alone wiv... Him." Toby flicked his eyes quickly to the ceiling.

The baker sighed.

"Oh, come on love, don't be that way. Remember what you were just goin' on about? Movin' on. So get over yer Toddophobia, and let's go, ok?"

Toby nodded stiffly, and marched after Mrs Lovett out the door.

They had just made it to the first street corner when she paused.

"Ya know what, Toby? Whaddya say we bring Mr T along with us, hm? 'E needs some fresh air... And who knows, maybe you two will..." at this, Nellie grasped for something to say, but realized nothing was actually possible. She was blind to the looks of protest on the child's face.

"Er- well, just stay here for a sec, okay?" She raced back quickly the few buildings they had walked from Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor.

Not wanting to leave Toby alone for long, she raced up the stairs to the barber shop and knocked, huffing impatiently.

"Come in."

She was surprised at the answer until she realized he couldn't see who it was. She pushed the door open and began to speak in haste.

The dangerously frowned features on her face didn't stop her.

"Ok, Mr Todd, me and the boy are goin' to the market, and I was thinkin' you should come because lately you've been doin' a whole lot more of nothin' than you usually do. I want ya to get out, and do something, m'kay? With us?"

Sweeney blinked. "No".

Nellie rolled her eyes. "Not surprisin' in the least, are ya? Sweeney, come with us."

"Why?"

Mrs Lovett didn't attempt thinking. She marched over to the barber's chair and let her mouth move on unyielding hinges.

"_Because_, ya great big lump! Because all you ever do is sit here! You will come with us because I am not letting you do nothing! Now get up! You look like a right proper mess, ya know..." The baker proceeded to straighten his clothing and brush off his vest. "Don't know how the customers aren't scared away by yer awful appearance... Really, do you even bother?"

She finished cleaning him up and then Toby intruded her thoughts.

How long had he been there? She wasn't going to wait and find out.

"Now get up!" She pulled the barber, arm linked in arm, out the door and down the stairs- the latter being much more difficult.

Walking down the street was a chore- he shuffled along, being pulled more than actually walking.

"Ok, at... At the end of the street, Toby'll be there..."

Panic swarmed over Nellie as she neared the corner where she left Toby.

Her walking pace increased, her heart a bass drum.

Closer. A crowd of people. Many children. Toby?

She couldn't tell.

Loud voices. Babies screaming.

Stocky boots on cobbled pavement.

Mrs Lovett.

"Sweeney Todd, I swear on my life, if that boy isn't there when we arrive, your customers won't be the only ones findin' themselves in meat pies."


	4. In Which Plan C Fails

**Ye Gods! I cannot express my apologies for this terribly long gap in between chapters! Nor can I express my thanks for the followers and likers! **

** But I'm back and updates will definitely be much more frequent. My evil plan is forming slowly! Mwahaha!**

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Toby knew he had to pick up the pace. He knew what would happen if he was late getting back, if Mrs Lovett knew he had gone.

But he had to visit her.

"How much time?"

He whispered the words, having made his way back to the workhouse where he used to make his living. Back to the first bit of care he had ever experienced.

She shook her head, white curls bobbing gently.

"Not long. You best take this."

She handed him a bottle with her shaking hands. Time had worn those hands. Time. He had to hurry up...

He forced the overwhelming swell in his throat downwards. It diminished.

"T-thank you, ma'am. I'll make sure to use it up."

She granted him a sad smile.

"I hope you will."

He tried his best to translate feelings into words, but too much was happening. Toby was terrified.

He lent a small, but well-meant hug to the woman. He stumbled his thanks once more, slipped the bottle into his coat pocket, and bolted for the street corner.

"E's not there."

Mrs Lovett let her own words fully enter her mind. They led a sort of chain reaction, rippling slowly outward, alerting, telling herself what she dreaded.

"Sweeney, e's not there."

The barber's eyes seemed to be drawn towards the ground. It wasn't his fault.

Mrs Lovett clenched his arm, turning to face him. "Look- at- me!" With every pause, she shook him a bit. He took small notice and tilted his head a bit.

"If you would've been a tiny bit selfless, we would've gotten here sooner, and the boy wouldn't be gone!" She knew it was stupid, but blaming herself wasn't something she was in the mood for.

Sweeney wasn't phased, but he brought his head up a little more, feeling stirred enough to manage a response. "This isn't my doing."

The baker snorted.

"Oh, alright, so you're saying that if I would've been more commandin' wiv you, then Toby would still be 'ere! Oh, I've tried that many times, but usually you're about as responsive as a rock!"

Her quiet aquantience frowned at this, then twisted his mouth into a hint of a smirk. "I'll respond, then."

With that, he turned and made his way back down the street.

Anger bubbled and boiled through every inch of the baker at that point. Toby was gone, and now so was Sweeney.

"That ain't important right now," she breathed quietly. She set off into the busy market to find Toby.

The noise, the colours, and the commotion was completely overwhelming. Such an atmosphere this was, that the baker reluctantly doubted she would locate the boy anytime soon. That sick, heavy feeling set in again as she picked apart all the faces in the crowd.

"Toby! You over here?"

Her voice was nothing to the mass crowd. Yelling wasn't going to help her here.

Luckily she didn't have to make efforts for much longer.

A parade of relief flooded through her as Toby came running from around a nearby corner. He spotted her quickly, making a maze through the given labyrinth of people. He ran into her, both of them giving into a tight hug.

"Toby! What 'appened to ya, love? I was worried sick, I was!" Mrs Lovett smudged some dirt off the boy's face, and let her eyes display the motherly instinct that was taking over. "You've got dirt all over... Oh, I'm just glad I could find you in such a riot!"

Toby was glad as well. "I'm awful sorry, ma'am! I really am! I-"

Toby paused, stuttering and tripping on the emotions clearly exposed in the baker's eyes. What would he say? He surely couldn't tell her about the bottle, yet lying to her was something he had sworn never to do.

"I... Uh..."

"What's pesterin' you so much, love?"

Mrs Lovett kept her eyes on his, subconsciously smoothing his coat out, which was rather filthy. She startled though when her hand hit something.

"Toby, what's this?"

Mrs Lovett pulled a small, glass bottle out of Toby's left pocket. The boy tried to swipe it back, but she had already read the label with a steady gasp.

"Arsenic?"

She drew a blank, but it was for she didn't know which of the many thoughts to believe.

"Toby, why do you have this?" Mrs Lovett hoped frantically he would answer in her desired way.

He didn't. He didn't make a noise. Right then, guilt was filling him up to the brim, threatening to control whatever might've slipped out of his mouth next.

He wasn't answering. Mrs Lovett gasped, lowering her voice suddenly. One would have to strain terribly to hear her next conclusion.

"Toby... Were you gonna use this on Mr Todd?"

The boy's eyes welled. He didn't move a muscle.

Bombs, rocks, and an assortment of other heavy objects dropped inside of Mrs Lovett when Toby didn't utter a word. What was she to do? Punish him? There wasn't much point in that. She wasn't even sure she was angry. She wasn't really sure what she was at all. But following Sweeney's pattern, anger seemed the best option.

"Tobias Ragg... What were you thinkin!?"

" You're sayin' you were gonna go waltzing off to poison Mr Todd with this? Do you know how irresponsible such a thing is?"

Toby didn't know what to do. Here he was, lying with his silence. But the truth was no option either.

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am. I dunno what I was thinkin'."

"Yeah, neither do I." Mrs Lovett left the bottle on the streets, shattered seconds later by one of the many people walking through the markets. The deadly fluid was gone, diluted into the muddy streets of London, leaked down into the sewers to make corpses of unlucky rats.

Toby swept the floors with a tornado-like force. He was panicking. That bottle was his only hope, the last resort, the plan C. He wish Mrs Lovett knew. Oh, if she knew, she would never have touched that bottle. She would've given it right back to him, made him drink it all. But he couldn't tell her. If he did, she would try delaying the inevitable. That would've most definitely ruined his plans. This way it was better.

The end for one, the beginning for another.


	5. In Which Mrs Lovett Tells a Story

**I'VE UPDATED!** **Thanks so much to wonderful and encouraging people who checked this story out!** **Today we travel a bit more into the conflict between our favourite partners in crime.** **I have great expectations for this story. ;D** **But really, I have many plans for the future. My fingers are typing them out as fast as they can.** **It would make my whole entire life to earn some beautiful new followers, so if you like it, feel free to :)** **THANK YOU GUYS!** **Hope you like. ** **-**

The dawn came upon Mrs Lovett earlier than she had yearned it to, but she pushed and struggled herself up anyways. Troubling thoughts of Toby's bottle flew and whirled around in her mind frantically. She hadn't managed to get any flour, either. She had only wanted to go yesterday, seeing as trying to interest Sweeney might've had a possible success.

But now that many of the fancier market stalls had hitched up, she didn't see any worth in it. Maybe that's what she would ask him to do. Toby wouldn't disobey her, especially when he knew he was half the reason she hadn't bought the flour.

But the act with the arsenic was still blaring and blocking out any other productive thoughts in her mind that morning.

The only thing she looked forward to was that lesson. Maybe it was the reason she awoke. The baker hoped earnestly that the barber's hostility from the last day was vanquished, but she had her doubts. If Sweeney Todd could forgive and forget in a day, many things would be different.

Soon after sending Toby off to get the flour, she recalled her plan from the previous day, and pounded up the stairs to carry it out. Her insides seemed to be made of butterflies that morning as she rapped her knuckles on the door to Sweeney Todd's tonsorial parlor. Because this time, she was sure that she was going to break down all the walls today. Sweeney WOULD notice her, and he would forget about Lucy, even if it was only for a second. But that meant for a second, Mrs Lovett could be truly happy.

On the other side of the door, Sweeney sat waiting in the chair, listening to the whoosh of his razor as he flicked it in and out. "Come in", he grunted. "This is it", she breathed. And she pushed open the door.

RINGRING.

The bell on the door chimed as Mrs Lovett carefully woke the floorboards into a creaking fit, making her way to the middle of the room where Sweeney was sitting.

"Mr Todd... We can start now."

The barber merely shifted his head in her direction, keeping the razor in its threatening motion. Flick, swish. Flick, swish.

"D'ya... Do ya want me to use them old razors again?"

Mrs Lovett kept a hesitance in her voice as always. It was a frustrating thing, knowing that she had to keep playing this childish game with him every time they spoke. How did she ever think spending a longer amount of time with him would change his act?

Sweeney Todd was a killer. He was docile. He was territorial. He often reminded his landlady of a large, carnivorous animal.

But Mrs Lovett kept telling herself things. Maybe spending time with him was too much. To be dragged painfully out of the idea of Sweeney, and introduced and pushed towards the real Mr Todd: not nearly as kind and surreal as the one in her mind.

Maybe she ought to get on with it?

Maybe she could turn her reality into what she saw in her mind?

It was worth a try.

"Yeah. Suppose you could." It wasn't as much to the barber's interest what tools the baker decided to use. As long as the job was done.

"Where'd ya put 'em from last day?"

"Trunk."

"Ah..." Mrs Lovett softly responded, making her way slowly and leisurely to the trunk sitting by the window. Even in the dark and shadowy quarters of the room, the dulled silver shine of the razor caught bits of light that seemed not to filter through the window in the first place.

She confirmed the hand she was carrying in the razor in as her right hand, and then traveled a bit more hastily over to the dresser to gather the shaving cream.

"It's the white stuff, right?" She searched his dresser casually, biting her tongue as her fingers ran over a stained photograph of the one and only Lucy Barker.

"Mhm." He didn't linger with his words.

"Do... Do I just mix it up, like-wise?"

She swished the badger brush in the best circular motion she could manage, wincing as tiny drops splattered her dress. Seeing the job as done as she could manage, she walked over to the landmark of a chair in the room, and held the brush up to his motionless face, about to start-

"Uh, wait-"

Sweeney had a start in his reluctant act of comfort and indifference. Did he want to rid those little prying fingers off of his every move at once, and get her off her guard yet? Or was it too soon? Too out of character, for him to suddenly coöperate in the session and show as if he was putting in every effort to make sure of her learning?

He was impatient, but he was also cunning.

It was too soon.

Mrs Lovett lifted an eyebrow in quick questioning. She knew the last thing he was going to be was comfortable, but starting out of a sulk like that was a bit irregular. Should she tell her tale now? Was now a good time to try to entwine her childish stories around his mind, squeezing it into a submissive state in which he might soften a bit? Or should she save it?

_You should be thankful. Look, you're spending time with him! You get to be with him, you get to talk to him. He's not trying to kill you for once._

But the baker knew that simply being with him would never be enough for her.

It was time to give the story a try.

"What is it, love?"

He regained his usual indifference.

"Nothing. Just... Go on."

Both played innocent, trying to act around the intentions playing through their heads.

"Mr T, can I tell you somethin'?"

Mrs Lovett spoke in a lulling way, but not wickedly luring or falsely as she tried to interest the barber. She kneeled and slowly set down the materials placed in her hands.

"What?"

He felt the slightest bit of irritation. Why wasn't she doing what she had wanted to be doing so badly? He didn't like interruptions. Especially not when he had a job to be done.

"It's... It's a story."

The baker hoped that these words would do just the opposite of draw him off, but intrigue him instead. Child's play was the best way to get into a mind like this. Or so she hoped.

The silence was seemingly almost broken with the expression made by the barber.

"I'd really like it if you'd listen..."

That was quite a statement for the baker to utter, as it was true, but intensified in whole.

She needed him to listen to her, to notice her, to acknowledge her, to face her. She wanted to break through to this man. She wanted to communicate with him as if he were a person, not a wall, or a dangerous animal that she had to talk to in subtle voices to keep under control. She needed to wake him up, to clear his eyes of Lucy, the thing that was so terribly fogging up the barber's entire world.

This time, she didn't need a response.

She began.

"So, ya see, Mr Todd... There once was a l'il girl, who was blond, and petite, and she had 'erself this friend..."

Mrs Lovett came to a stop suddenly, realizing with a flip of her stomach, that it was not going the way she wanted. Toby had a way of speaking. Perhaps it was his child-like innocence. She wasn't really sure, but it was lacking from her.

She also felt fear suddenly register in her brain.

_Blond? Petite?_

_Great choice, Lovett._

_Don't forget to tell him that she also dies._

The barber's current reaction was worse than he feared. Storms were brewing, and it seemed that Mrs Lovett had no where to hide from this one.

"Er- so, this friend she had, he was a page."

"You know, for a castle of sorts. He... I mean, she..."

"No, uh, they..."

_Lord, what comes next..._

She bit her lip repetitively in hope of remembering, seeing as her companion was starting to remind her more and more of a time bomb, dangerously nearing its explosion.

_Well, God help me..._

Improvising seemed the best path. It was a terribly rocky and potentially fatal path, but it was a great idea compared to anything else that the baker could think of.

"So... This pretty l'il thing, she got 'erself engaged to this man. He loved 'er more than anything in this life, and he would do absolutely anything for 'er."

"So, jus' imagine his panic when one day, his wife... She got, uh... kidnapped. She got kidnapped, but they got the wrong person, right? So this man, e's terribly depressed wivout his wife there with himself. He don't got nothin' to live for. See what I mean?"

The barber nodded slowly. He knew the baker was going somewhere. It was painfully obvious. She never was subtle. But he found himself strangely engaged anyways.

"Well, then he just decides the best way out is to go pushin' up daisies. He's done with livin', 'cause he doesn't have his wife with him anymore."

Sweeney registered her latest babblings with more meaning. Didn't that make sense? He was dangerously close to reaching for that very conclusion.

"His wife, she gets... She breaks free of her captors, and she comes back to find her husband that she loves so dearly."

The usually silent or raging man parted his lips, followed by a rush of hesitance. But he somehow pulled the words out of his mouth.

"Did she?"

Mrs Lovett was so stunned to see him answer that she tripped and stumbled on her planned words, and asked, "Did she what?"

Realizing what he meant as he stared her down, she gasped, and pulled an answer together quickly. "Oh! Oh, you mean did she find him-"

She tilted her head. 'Weren't you listening to me? I told you he snuffed it. She can't find 'im if he's dead."

The barber lifted an eyebrow. It was the most exuberant facial expression he had made that day.

"Ah, never mind it. So she comes back... She can't find him... He ain't there."

"He didn't wait for her, Mr Todd. He was impatient. He didn't wait, and see what happened?"

"He left her devastated. And very angry."

"I would've waited."

Mrs Lovett blinked slowly, trying to understand the man seated in front of her.

"Would you've? Would you have waited, when you were lost in such a state o' grief? You still would'a waited for her?"

"Hmm."

It wasn't much of a response, but it was game changing for the baker. What was he thinking?

"Why don't you wait now then, Mr T? Forget 'bout all them thoughts flyin' around in your mind, wait till later... Clear away the past from your head, so you can see the present."

"Why didn't Lucy wait, Mrs Lovett?"

Only the baker could detect what made this a question. Otherwise it was as expressive as stone, with no hint of curiosity or questioning.

"I- uh... Maybe she..."

Maybe she what? She couldn't say that Lucy hadn't cared for him enough. That wouldn't help her case any. What would?

The truth?

A variation?

"I think your dear Lucy couldn't... Take it anymore. She couldn't do it without you, Mr T. She needed you."

"I see."

The barber's mind fought separate battles. If his wife had needed him so bad, wouldn't she have waited? But how could he speak against her as such? Her actions were her own, and having to live with Turpin, he could see her reasoning.

But why did she leave?

If she hadn't taken that poison, he wouldn't be stuck in his current situation.

_NO._

_This is not her fault, it's Turpin's. Turpin's alone._

And what he said to quiet the baker, about waiting.

Was it true?

Was it true that he would have waited for his beloved if she had been taken away so brutally? Of course. He would wait forever. Sweeney found another catapult of thoughts tumble through his mind.

He was only answering the baker to please her, to make her believe she could get close to him, and trust him. She was gullible.

But wasn't there some sincerity to his words?

He brought himself suddenly back to the dull, grey room as a meek and apprehensive whisper slid out of his landlady's mouth.

"I'd wait forever for you, Mr Todd."

These were words the barber apprehended with mixed reactions.

Anger, of course, that she had used Lucy as a way to speak to him about her fancies.

More anger. She was trying to make herself seem better than his wife.

"You are not Lucy Barker. It does not matter. You haven't had to wait for anything."

He had spoken more than his usual amount per sitting, but he went on.

"You don't know how she had to cope. No one but... Turpin. You've never had to wait."

Mrs Lovett soaked up all the irony. She, never having to wait? Wasn't it obvious enough to that silly man that 15 years of her life had been passed waiting?

_That isn't true, Mr T. I've waited._

_ I've waited for everything. For you. _

_For you to respond to me, notice me, talk to me, listen to me, smile at me, laugh with me, hold me, love me-_

"I'm sorry, Mr Todd. Was only tryin' to tell you a story."

At her sudden retreating, the barber felt relief. She was learning her place.

Which was soon going to be down in the bakehouse where the rest of the wicked met their ends.

But some tiny, nearly invisible gear of doubt had begun spinning after that conversation with the baker-

a simple mindset that Sweeney did not particularly approve of-

If Eleanor Lovett bought a train ticket and sped away to live by the sea-

perhaps it was for the gin he always drank-

or the homestyle cooking he never ate-

or the company he never wanted-

That day, some small, possibly crazy voice inside Sweeney Todd's mind told him he would wait.


	6. In Which Sweeney Todd Faces Conflict

**Look! A wild update! I'm really sorry it's so short though! I promise longer chapters will come :)**

**I'm definitely going to be quicker with updates now. The winds of change are blowing ;)**

**Reviews make me happy! In fact, everytime a review is written, a kitten is born. Isn't that lovely? Don't we all love kittens?**

**Hehe but really, thank you all for everything so far :) please review or follow if you like it! ^^ I hope more will join in? :D **

**ON WITH THE STORY.**

****Mrs Lovett wasn't particularly used to the idea of success. Her business had only just begun booming, and it wasn't all her own doing, either. It was definitely far from honest. She hadn't had success in her husband; Albert Lovett had been loving up until the very day they had wed. She certainly wasn't very sorry that he had passed on.

And then there was the matter of success with the demon barber.

The baker was never sure where she stood with the man. If he had responded to her in earnest, or in attempt to hush her mumbling. If he had smiled because she had told him something she found interesting, or because of the way his death-persuing razors reflected light around the room. She knew she had cracked something the last day with her story. Something had clicked. Or snapped. But Nellie was optimistic, seeing as there wasn't much left to snap inside of a man like Sweeney Todd. Surely things could only get better?

The optimistic mood injected into her by her assumed success had also spread eagerness through her veins again. The same hopeful and new energy that dominated her on the first day of her lessons. Now that the third lesson had come, she was glad to have the same vigor supporting her once more.

It snapped.

He was positively sure there was nothing left to break or damage, but something far into the complicated system of Sweeney Todd's mind snapped.

All that night, sleep was the last thing that seemed reachable to him. Thoughts barricaded all notions of sleeping, hurling themselves around his head and multiplying by the second. Was it Lucy occupying his head? The baker? Both?

Lucy held a definite spot in his mind all the time. She seemed to steal even more room for other thoughts when sleep was needed. But this time she had to share the attention with Mrs Lovett.

It wasn't at all an affectionate thought, but more of a troubling thought. She would've waited for him. He didn't believe it the least, but it was still enough to earn a place in his head that night. He wondered who would've waited longer. He pictured Lucy and Mrs Lovett, both withering away into nothing as they both tried to live out their days longer than the other, waiting for him.

On Lucy, patience and loyalty looked like wonderful virtues that only graced her personality further.

But on Mrs Lovett, it was twisted. If she did have the patience and loyalty, it wasn't pleasant. It was a yearning and necessary base to her survival, it seemed. She wasn't quiet and calm with her wants, but affixed to waiting, and wasting away for it as well.

He knew she hid it underneath her calm features and half smiles, but he also knew one day she would snap.

She entered the room so opposite to her cheery mood, and sprang over to the dresser. She didn't need instructions this time; she lathered the cream up simply, and waddled lively up to the barber, who was standing up at the only filter of light in the room.

"Won't you look? Got this all ready, I did, and you ain't even sittin' down yet! Must mean I've been gettin' all the quicker, eh?"

There was little reaction from him, aside from turning his head a little to view the baker with an unresponsive face.

She grinned and tugged his hand playfully, trying to arouse him from his hard stature. "Come on! Into the chair, you great lump!"

It wasn't in his intentions to end her until her utter trust was gained. But did he even want to think about that at all?

He shook it aside and proceeded with being hauled into his own contraption of doom. She hummed quirky little tunes as she covered his face in shaving cream, and made dramatic facial expressions as she started to wield the razor- squinting one eye and sticking her tongue out when she was trying harder, teeth bared and both eyes squint when she was trying her hardest. Her head and eyebrow cocked as she evaluated him from the front, spotting what she missed. A look of triumph as she cleared the last bit of shadow off of his face. It wasn't the cleanest, but she found herself quite proud, it being only her second time.

"Well, it isn't too bad... I mean, got a lotta problem areas where you're still lookin' a bit hairy, but we'll learn how to cover them, won't we?" She spoke these words in a reassuring manner to herself as she toweled off his passive face. He still hadn't spoken a word. Not unusual, but the baker had planned on advancing further than that, seeing how he had practically given her a speech the last day.

"Alright Mr Todd, what is it? Aren't you pleased? Did real good, I did..." She crossed her arms and inhabited a playful look of superior and indifference, holding her nose to the ceiling and blinking slowly.

The barber swallowed tightly, feeling pressured. What was he to do now? She was getting better... When was he to kill her?

Again. There it was- doubt. Did he want to even think about finishing her off?

_Enough. She's seeming well, just do it now._

Sweeney hesitated more, as usual ignoring the impatient looks on his accomplice's face. Should he? Would he?

_She wants to be Lucy. She's trying to replace her._

_This is what you wanted. Go for it._

The thoughts pestering his brain so constantly finally caused him to act.

He would wait. Not much longer, but he would wait. He wasn't one to give into ridiculous self indulgences, but seeing Mrs Lovett's blood splattered all over his room (not to mention his current articles of clothing) was something he wanted to put off at the moment.

"So, you gonna answer me yet?"

He wondered why he was keeping her around. She was annoying.

"Gin. We need gin."

He found it the best way to end his mind's constant roar.

"Suppose we could do that." She agreed with a half shrug. It was much better than no answer though, and she took it with pleasure. After putting the razor and other things away, she and the barber thunked noisily down the stairs, entering the parlor with sighs of satisfaction and disinterest. Mrs Lovett brought out two glass and filled them with the coveted beverage.

Both had calmly settled into a state of stillness when suddenly, a startling crash was heard, coming from the other side of the quarters.

Mrs Lovett dug her brows downwards and turned with interest and concern to the direction of the disturbance.

"Oh! You just star here, dear, I'm gonna go check out what's stirrin' up the dust over there." She slipped off of the stool and walked steadily through the rooms, coming to a halt just outside her room.

She breathed inward, shaking her head in a sensical way, and pushed the door open.

"Toby!"

Her eyes widened as she found the boy sitting in a mangled heap beside a broken vase; Nellie's grandmother's broken vase.

"What did you- oh, Toby..." She knelt beside the boy, who was shaking and seemed startled. He quickly hid a cough, but not quick enough.

"Alright! What is goin' on, here, love? I don't mean to sound angry or anythin', but what is it?"

He attached his hand onto hers, and she was shocked to see that it was hardly anything but skin and bones. She knew he had never been of a great or strong build, but it wasn't right.

"Ma'am- I swear, I didn't-"

"Shh... Jus' tell me what's wrong, love. That's all I need to know." She held his hand tightly while running her fingers through his already-ruffled hair. He opened his mouth to take another breath, and pushed it out shakily before attempting longer speech. "I.."

"It..."

"Go on, I'm not gonna be mad..."

"I w-was angry, ma'am. That you and Mr Todd was gettin' along. I guess I just got... frustrated."

"You got mad? Toby, you wouldn't do somethin' like this! I know you, dear, and this isn't you."

"It was, ma'am." His voice sounded of the utmost honesty, but his eyes said something entirely different.

"Well... I'm not gonna insist somethin' if it's not true, then. But if you were angry 'bout this in the first place, why didn't you tell me?" Mrs Lovett was concerned for the boy. Not only was his physique degrading, leaving him looking sickly and starved, but something was suspicious with his answers.

Toby swallowed heavily, sending a shiver through his entire body. Mrs Lovett held him closer.

"I didn't want to bother you, ma'am. I'm sorry I broke your vase, though."

The baker sighed into him, shaking her head. "Nothin' to be sorry for. Just don't be afraid to talk to me, alright?"

He nodded.

"Now, why don't you come in for a pie? Me and Mr T were just havin' some gin, too. I'm sure he'd be willin' to share." She winked at Toby, knowing that gin would probably get him flying if it had to.

"Do you mind if I just stay 'ere, ma'am? The fireplace is awful warm, and I just feel... Tired."

Worry overpowered Nellie as she heard his answer. "Are you sure? At least let me bring you a pie. You need to eat."

He only responded with a smart nod. "Alright, ma'am. And thanks a lot. I-"

He stuttered. She never knew him to stutter. He had once sold human waste in a bottle as hair product. He didn't falter.

"I-"

"Anything else you want? At all?" She hoped he would ask for more food, but it seemed he didn't want to eat.

"I'm fine for now, ma'am. Really, I promise." He smiled, giving her the tiniest reassurance.

"If you say so. I'll go and get your food." She rose from her sitting and petted him on the head softly before heading back to the parlor.

Upon entering, Sweeney raised a questioning eyebrow. "So?", he muttered.

Mrs Lovett headed over to the kitchen, scouting out a pie to feed the child.

"There's somethin' up with Toby."

This did little to affect the barber. Toby was a nuisance to him.

"What did he do?"

At this, she sighed. "Well, first he was apparently tryin' to posion you. Now he's breakin' vases. I dunno, but somethin' isn't right." Upon discovering an old (but hopefully still edible) pie hiding behind a cupboard door, she plopped it onto a plate, creating a small mushroom cloud of flour.

"It's Bedlam for him."

Mrs Lovett whirled around with a sudden force of ferocity. "No! There is nothin' wrong with him! He's just... I don't know, but he's goin' through something hard, and I will do whatever is in my power and more to help him, alright? Just because you don't have your child with you doesn't mean I'M not allowed to have mine!"

She expected his rage, and suddenly shrunk, having only a plate for protection.

But he simply poured more gin into his glass and chugged it down. "I'm just telling you the truth."

She relaxed her tense muscles, dropping her left arm to the side limply, and realising her death grip on the plate, relaxing it.

"I didn't... I'm sorry. It's just-"

"Toby-"

At this, no more words could be formed without being accompanied by tears, so the baker just sat down in defeat, burying her head in her arms. The barber had the knowledge that the boy was the closest that Mrs Lovett could ever come to having something to care for, to nurture, and have care for her in return. He didn't feel guilt. He just understood. He poured her another swallow, and sat back in indifference as if he had never done such a thing.

She looked up, seeing the glass full again. "Ah, but I can't. Toby's waiting for his food. But-"

-She had never practiced for this-

"Thanks."

Half a nod was his only response.

She half smiled and hurried back down the hall to deliver the boy's food, only to find him fast asleep in front of the fire.

:)


	7. In Which Toby is Sick

**HUGE THANKS TO BURTONIZED LADY HELLRAT FOR THE VERY KIND REVIEWS! **

**NEW CHAPTER! WOOP. SORRY IF IT'S GOING A BIT SLOW.**

**I swear, this story really does have a point to it. ;D**

"Mr Todd! How is it I check 'is temperature again?"

"Oh no... Mr T, 'e's shiverin' again, but the blanket ain't workin'..."

"I swear, if he gets any warmer, he'd be burnin' alive!"

He only thought of Johanna- his little girl, one of the two bright and shining stars in his life. As his landlady rushed around trying to care for the boy, the barber muttered out remedies and tips, to which she sprang to without a moment's hesitation.

He was reminded of Lucy, how she would tend to Johanna 24 hours a day, never sharing the precious little babe. Benjamin would just smile, feeling proud of the motherly instinct that came so naturally to his wife.

Now as he watched Mrs Lovett sprinting around the building in a fit of worry, or rocking the feeble boy in the darker of times, he sat back and observed without much emotional investment to the situation.

He found it funny, seeing all the chaos, stress, and tears that were being played out in front of him. Like a dramatic theatrical play put out just for him.

The boy was sick, that was for sure. Whether Mrs Lovett would be able to nurse him back to full health or not, Sweeney didn't know. He wasn't quite sure he would be too sorry either. Maybe Mrs Lovett would finally understand the undying pain of losing a child.

Maybe she would stop trying to reassure him and cheer him up about things that were not going to be ok. She would understand that some things couldn't be forgotten, or forgiven.

So, despite all the reasons that the barber wanted the boy gone, there was one reason that he needed him to remain.

Surely Mrs Lovett would never care about the barbering lessons again if her boy was always in need. And if he died... Well, she wouldn't have any of the same energy or enthusiasm that he knew too well.

He needed the boy to recover. Or else watch his plans fall to ruin in front of him- something that had happened one too many times.

"Oh, thank goodness! Never thought you'd be able to keep it down. Maybe we're gettin' somewhere?"

Mrs Lovett smiled bigger than she had the past few days. Within about a week, Toby had gone from bad to worse. He refused food, and when she finally managed to catch him when he was half hungry, his stomach tossed it right back up. It wracked the baker horribly, knowing her boy was sick.

Seeing him like this effected everything she did- she was followed by worry where ever she went, dragging her step to a sad and slow waltz. Unless of course she was tending to her boy- in which she was alive with enthusiasm driven not by happiness, but terrible anxiety.

On that day when he finally was able to keep some food, she was showered with relief, and the smallest bit of hope.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I wish this didn't have to happen."

Toby was seated on the couch in the parlor, wrapped in all the blankets the baker owned.

Most of what made him comfortable was not the blankets, but the guardian he had sitting beside him.

"Love, it ain't your fault for gettin' sick! You don't apologize for things like that!"

She smiled weakly and gently ran her fingers through his hair, knowing from newly granted experience that the feeling relaxed him greatly.

"Ma'am... I kinda gotta tell you somethin', though..."

She nodded, continuing to ruffle his choppy hair. "Go right ahead, dear."

"Wasn't too long ago, ma'am, that I had that arsenic...

And here 'tis now; my head feels numb, and I've never been so sick."

"I gotta tell you ma'am, them two things are connected in a way.

I really hoped I wouldn't have to live out this day-

The day in which I tell you 'bout what I had in mind-

Mrs Lovett studied the boy with the highest curiosity and wonder. What was he talking about? Was she finally going to find out about the arsenic? The vase?

Cause I really hoped this plan was gonna work out jus' fine."

"I hoped I wouldn't have to tell ya, and that you'd end up in bliss- but things haven't gone to plan, and well, my timing's amiss.

"If I'm never to recover, then my secret is this-"

She stopped stroking his hair, her whole body effected by the suspense he was suddenly causing her-

And Sweeney Todd came flying through the door.

Toby gasped, a forceful enough action to send shivers down his spine, sending a wave of chills through his body. Mrs Lovett was slightly upset by the omission of whatever he was going to tell her, but as soon as she saw him unsettled, she forgot about it and tucked the blankets around him as tightly as she could.

She looked up angrily at the barber. "What was it ya had to come down here botherin' us about?"

Sweeney growled. The boy's condition was effecting her mood, as he knew it only would. Or maybe it was because he knew already how defensive she was of Toby.

"Just came to get some gin."

Toby perked up surprisingly at the word. "Oh, but can I have some?"

Mrs Lovett beamed. It was the first time in days that he had willingly asked for food or drink. She didn't know if gin was the best medicine for him at the time, but he had asked for it, and that was a good enough reason for her.

"Go on Mr T, pour 'im some while you're at it."

He poured himself a glass, and then put the bottle away. The baker frowned. "Hey, I asked you for more! At least bring the bottle here!" She felt more frustration at his stubbornness than ever before.

"No. He's yours, not mine." The barber responded with the monotonous voice that irritated the baker beyond words. Especially when it was towards Toby.

She rose from her spot beside Toby on the couch. "Just stay here, love. I'm just going to talk some sense into Mr T." She walked over to him, looking him straight in his empty eyes.

"Pour him another glass. You're makin' me frustrated, Mr T. He's just a boy, and look at 'im! Can't he learn the lessons of life later?"

The barber inhabited a look that the baker found especially hard to read. Then, without another word, he grabbed the gin from the shelf he had shoved it on to, thrust it into the bakers hands, and headed back upstairs.

But before heading out the door, he turned around once-

"Just watch as he goes to the bottom of the pit with the rest of them."

And stalked back up the stairs into his eternal brooding place.

Nellie sighed a heavy sigh, weighed down with all the frustration that the barber had to cause her. She filled up a glass with the gin, and brought it over to the patient child.

"Toby... I'm sorry. Mr Todd, I'm sure he's just havin' a bad day."

"Don't gotta be sorry for things you can't help, ma'am". He gave his best smile, and then reaching for the glass, swigged it down.

Mrs Lovett grinned softly at the sight she once thought wasn't very appropriate for a 13 year old boy. But seeing him get back into his old habits flushed relief through her. She only hoped that things would get better.

Because surely they couldn't get worse?

He wasn't sorry.

He wasn't sorry for what he said, for how his pity for the boy was non existent. He was getting in the way of what Sweeney wanted, and in his mind, if something got in the way, the best way to get rid of it was to get rid of it for good.

But of course that would never do. Mrs Lovett would be distraught. She would never care about anything else.

And he didn't want to wait until she did begin caring again- he was getting rather impatient.

But he had to wait. Wait to see if the boy recovered, if things went back to normal. He had to remember-

All good things come to those who wait.


	8. Bottles

**Happy Christmas :)**

**Apologies for:**

**-Short chapter **

**-ridiculous wait time**

**I sort of had to rewrite this a few times because the plot was being nasty. Updates are going to be more frequent now, as I'm quite sure of what I'm doing now :) I'm also really sorry if I haven't answered any PMs yet... I should get organized. Anyways, more coming soon. Including some actual progression between Nellie and Sweeney. Please R and R! It would make my day!**

**Letting out a sigh, the baker fought the instinct to stay behind and tend to the boy. But business was getting behind... More flour was needed already... **

**Still.**

She came to a conclusion, figuring she would send the barber to the market while she tried ever-so loyally to nurse Toby back to health.

She sauntered over to the boy, a simple figure draped in all sorts of blankets, asleep as if he hadn't been for days, when truthfully, he fell asleep easily...

Too easily, too often. Her eyes pitifully spanned his small, crooked figure, arms clutched around the thickest quilt as if he were hanging onto it for his life. His breath was slow- Not the peaceful and even rise the baker had past observed, but a thin and empty breath that seemed to be full of holes and snags.

She sighed, kneeling next to him and adjusting the blankets so they were as useful as she could make them.

Standing back up, Mrs Lovett made her way up to the barber shop she had seldomly seen in the past couple weeks. She pushed the door open without hesitation, snagging the attention of the barber. His focus on the window was stolen.

"Need you to go get some flour, Mr T. We're all out."

She didn't bother trying to sweeten or soften her words, her weariness and exhaustion dulling and slightly slurring her speech.

The barber considered her offer.

"No..."

Mrs Lovett shook her head and leaned wearily on the door frame.

"Please, Mr Todd, not now..."

He wasn't particularily satisfied in giving her a bad time.

He knew already how stressed and tired she was.

He knew that giving her just the smallest break would relieve her greatly.

But leaving the neutral grounds of his shop wasn't something he was willing to do either.

He stiffened.

"Just... Go."

She widened her eyes, opening her mouth in shock and anger.

"No! I ain't just gonna leave you be up here because you're too selfish to do anything for anyone else!" She advanced further into the room, arms crossed and eyes aflame.

"Right now, there is a sick, tired little boy downstairs. I can't be everywhere at once! So just this one time! Will you-"

"I was going to watch him."

All the fire died, and the baker dropped her arms to her sides. She stared at him softly, the anger in her eyes suddenly pushed aside for wonder instead.

He didn't care for the boy.

But maybe he could learn some things he'd been wanting to know.

"You go. I'll... I'll watch him."

Mrs Lovett beamed. "Oh, will you really? Thank you so much, Mr Todd! He's really quite easy to manage, all ya gotta do is make sure if he wakes up he's got food and stuff. Try not to wake him up. Oh, and if he's coughing, just-"

The barber began to recover his previous focus on the world outside the window as the baker rambled on.

"Again, just... Thank you." She grinned, hugging his unresponsive body tight to her side. She looked up at him happily once more, then feeling that an end was appropriate, she let go and walked out the door with somewhat of a spring in her step.

Toby decided it was a good time to pull out plan D.

He had an exta stash, of course.

Bottles labeled "arsenic" in nearly illegible writing cluttered up the compartment of a small, unused vanity in the back of the bedroom.

He'd brought them in from the workhouse while Mrs Lovett was out, sneaking them back into the room, before his health had failed him.

Over the past month, he had emptied most of them, but he was sure a couple still remained full. Perhaps the last bottle from the workhouse had been smashed, but hopefully the remaining goods stored at the pie shop would help him out for a bit of the future.

He sat himself upright slowly, trying to avoid the invisible things that seemed to be thumping around his head. Turning into his arm to cough, he faced back around to meet the barber standing above him.

"M-Mr Todd..."

Sweeney took no pride or acknowledgement for the fear he could stir in the child. Not at the moment, anyways.

He knelt down next to Toby, tapping his fingers impatiently.

"You're sick... I need to find out how you can get better."

"What...?"

The barber felt no compassion. Instead frustration made its way through his system.

"How do we get you better..."

"Why do you wanna know?" Toby swallowed, wondering if he sounded too bold.

"I..." He was stuck for a moment. He couldn't tell him that he wished for his recovery as a way to win the baker's attention again...

_Fear works..._

"Don't question me, boy..." Sweeney showily slid a blade from his pocket, keeping his eyes on Toby all the while.

"Oh, sir, please don't!"

Toby edged back further, sudden caution leaping up into his chest.

"Then tell me."

"S-sir, please... Put the blade down..."

"Tell me."

Toby squirmed, trying not to let fear win over entirely.

"Sir, there ain't nothin' but to wait, I think..."

"But I feel better already, I promise."

The last part would be a lie until later.

Toby wasn't sure what the barber suddenly wanted, but whatever got the razor away from his neck was good enough for him.

Sweeney frowned.

"I want a guarantee you will be functioning by tomorrow. I don't care if you feel better or not. Act like it. Understood?"

Toby nodded quickly. "Yes, sir..."

He stood up, folding the razor swiftly and packing it smoothly back into his pocket. Toby sighed shakily, tucking himself amongst all the blankets and looking away from the barber.

Who, to his relief, gave one last look of warning, before stomping outside and back up the stairs to his shop.

The boy placed his feet on the ground, standing up with a hand steadily on the arm of the couch, before letting go, and taking a first few crude and uneven steps.

He made his way to the bedroom, where he knelt next to the vanity, ruffling through the back of it. His hand grasped the neck of a bottle. Wincing, he pulled his hardest, dislodging the bottle from the bottom of the drawer. He rubbed it off a bit with his sleeve, confirming his hopes;

The bottle read arsenic, clear as day.

Toby popped open the cap, tilted the bottom up, and let the liquid run down his throat as it had so many times before.


	9. Hopes

**New chapter! Be prepared for some actual movement here! I'll kick start it next chappy, I promise :) **

**But for now, I hope you're enjoying what you read, and thanks to anyone who took the time to do so! ;)**

Everything was as it was before- the moment the baker stepped through the doorway, sack of flour occupying her hands, she observed the scene suspiciously. At the moment, it had seemed a simple favor, the barber watching Toby. But once she had the time to think about it, a shameful suspicion had crept its way into her head.

So as her eyes fell upon Toby, fast asleep on the couch as usual, she was relieved. Her head told her it was time to start baking, but something else said that she needed to go see Sweeney...

_Well, I'd better ask him how it went anyways._

Glad to have a somewhat valid excuse, the baker dropped the weight of flour, and hiked her skirts up so she wouldn't trip as she ran outside and up the stairs.

Lifting a fist up to knock on the door, all the other times she had done so ran through her mind.

Knocking loudly, softly, not knocking at all...

Each time had brought a different mood, a different result...

It depressed her, knowing she might have to continue knocking, day after day, for the rest of her life. Never an invitation, but an interruption instead.

Hadn't she wanted to change that? Before the boy's descent to sickness, wasn't spending time with the barber important?

These thoughts were refreshed as she began to feel this want again. Toby vanished momentarily from her mind, and she knocked.

It was a loud knock, powered by the sudden nostalgia of that yearning. It had always been there, but flaring up suddenly, she forgot everything else that was going on. She wanted that time back with him, the shaving lessons, the small thrills of having him talk to her directly.

He looked up.

The baker was back.

He arose from the chair and walked over to the door. He turned the doorknob and pulled it, stepping back a bit.

"Mrs Lovett."

She placed a foot inside as a way of inviting herself in. When he didn't react, she brought herself into the room. How nothing had changed...

The barber closed the door slowly and turned around to face Mrs Lovett. She was spacily focused on the wallpaper at the moment, eyeing its sprawly pattern.

She shifted quietly, finally starting a topic;

"So, how was Toby?"

"Fine."

She walked around slowly, eyeing the room now.

"Oh. He didn't stir?"

He shrugged. "Wasn't down there the whole time."

She nodded slowly, some sort of concern for Toby slowly creeping back into her mind.

"You could've watched him the whole, time, Mr T, I mean..."

"It wouldn't have been too hard."

Sweeney shrugged yet again. "He seemed fine."

She sighed. "He seemed fine. Don't you see," she drew closer to him, "when you're takin' care of a child, Mr Todd, it's never just "fine"."

"And sometimes we gotta take time out of our own lives," she sighed sadly, "to make them feel better."

She felt that push again, that desire for his attention.

She reached out a hand, and slowly took his in hers.

She didn't dare look, not now.

Her eyes were closed, her head turned away.

She held her breath, teeth sinking into her trembling lips...

For a moment, he held on.

He held onto her. He had done what she had asked for the boy, and she thanked him for it.

He accepted it.

He stood silently, not a thought reaching his mind, as she slipped her hand gently into his.

And for a moment, the baker was happy.

And for a moment, everything was ok, and everything was right, and oh, how he would love living by the sea, once they were married of course, and Toby wouldn't be sick anymore, which would mean she could spend all the time in the world with her precious Mr Todd-

He let go.

Enough was enough, and he slipped his hand away, resuming his somewhat iconic place by the window.

He wouldn't forget about his plans for her, because he didn't forget many things at all anymore. Not even what he wanted to forget.

The whirling images and thoughts of all the promise and hope that hand held were lost and incinerated with that single movement. She sighed shakily, the excitement and happiness that had just been pumping through her veins coming to a sudden slow.

Mrs Lovett knew she wouldn't get a thing more out of him that night.

But did it matter?

She exited quietly, scurrying down the stairs quickly, the risk of tripping on her skirts suddenly not concerning her.

As soon as she got back inside, she closed the door, hitting her back against it, head up, unable to believe what had just happened to her.

Was it something?

Or was it simply a gesture to please her?

It didn't matter a bit.

It gave her hope, and for Nellie Lovett, a little hope went a very long way.

Walking back to her bedroom, she checked to make sure Toby was still asleep.

Of course, it was only supposed to be a quick check, but she ended up kneeling beside him anyways.

She ran her fingers lightly across his warm forehead, sighing heavily.

"Get better, love..."

She was so afraid of failing to cure the boy, so afraid that a couple of months in her care had proved sickening, or worse, fatal.

Mrs Lovett wanted to know, that for once, she could keep something alive, something beautiful.

She wanted to know she could be blessed to hold something as fragile as a life without watching it snuff out in front of her. It had happened once already, and watching it happen again was not only terrible, but painful for both.

She wanted to know, to be reassured that she could be in the presence of a light without completely destroying it like it seemed she had before.

She swallowed, closing her eyes and messaging her temples.

Looking up, she whispered...

"Listen love, I need to know...

That if you really have to go,

T'wasn't my fault, and if it was..."

She sighed, her eyes beginning to fill up.

"I didn't mean to be the cause..."

"I'm trying hard, you need to know...

And if you really have to go...

"Remember that I loved you so."

She looked down shaking her head.

"I haven't really proved it, though..."

"I can't lose you,

No, not again.

Not... Not another person."

She looked up a little, smiling through her moist eyes.

"You know, it's true,

You're a blessing to me,

"And..." She pulled her arms around him, no matter the sleep he was in.

Whispering in his ear gently...

"I think of you as... as a son..."

"So... So you stay strong, love. I know you can."

She began that habit again, brushing her fingers softly through his hair.

"You're a very brave young man..."

The tears wouldn't fall, even though they were quite threatening to, sitting in the corners of her eyes.

"I've brought you here, into this life... But is it fair, and is it right?

She looked away, wishing he could share a bit of the serenity and innocence on his face.

"Me, so inept, intent on keeping you here..."

She took her arms off Toby, and rested her head heavily in her hands

"Yet failing you is my biggest fear."

"You trust me so, and here I am, without a clue, and...

"Without a plan."

She shook her head again, unable to contain the guilt she felt.

"Why can't I..."

She sighed, sitting up.

She turned back to Toby, sill asleep, temporarily oblivious to reality.

She rested a hand gently on his face.

Mrs Lovett was done with self pity.

"I'll fix you up,

I'll see it through."

"Don't you worry-

she swallowed-

"I'm not losing you."

Kissing him softly on the forehead, she rose from the floor, and rerouted herself.

She went into her room and shut the door quietly.

Finally settling down in her bed, her mind began to wander variously and widely as she thought of the barber.

What am I doing?

Was she waiting? Trying? Pushing? Spending her time on something already dead, or not trying hard enough on something still very much alive?

She wasn't sure...and she wanted to regain her time with him to find out.

The lessons couldn't continue until Toby was better, she knew. She wouldn't leave him alone for that long without care or tending to.

But once... Once he was better.

If he got better.

She would be with the barber once again.

And with such a fresh rush of seeming promise in the future, she was beginning to believe that anything could happen.

And as the barber slowly began rethinking his plans, he started to believe the very same thing.


End file.
